


make a mess of me again

by Bakuzan_Sickle_Claw



Category: Kamen Rider Zi-O
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Time Travel, inappropriate use of Time Jacker powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakuzan_Sickle_Claw/pseuds/Bakuzan_Sickle_Claw
Summary: Ora puts Heure in a predicament.
Relationships: Heure/Ora (Kamen Rider Zi-O)
Kudos: 3





	make a mess of me again

It was one of the Time Jackers’ rare days off. Schwartz was out doing something, it didn’t really matter what, and his subordinates had full use of the abandoned warehouse where they all spent their off time. Ora was relaxing and enjoying the break. So was Heure, but he was considerably less relaxed.

Ora was sitting on one of the couches they’d stolen from somewhere, and Heure was kneeling in front of her with his head between her legs. Her legs were draped across his back, and her hand was lazily holding a fist of his hair as he licked at a steady pace. Periodically she would tug at it, and he would just groan and continue, knowing that didn’t mean he was allowed to stop. She was silent as usual, the only indication that she was enjoying it being that she wasn’t currently scolding or correcting him. He was pretty sure she’d gotten off a couple of times already, though. He was pretty good at this, not that she’d ever tell him so. He’d certainly had enough practice.

Just as he was beginning to push his tongue inside her again, she yanked his head back. “That’s enough.” He took a deep breath, and she paused for a moment too, seeming to recover. She let go of his hair and put herself back in order, straightening her hair and pulling her sky-blue skirt back down. He gazed up at her and watched, carefully not making eye contact. She was trying to hide it, but her breath was uneven in a way that betrayed she’d really enjoyed that. He had to work to calm himself down too— she just came a few times, but he hadn’t at all, not for at least a couple of weeks.

Ever since Ora had figured out exactly how much Heure liked it when she bossed him around, she had taken advantage of it in every way possible. He’d stopped pretending not to enjoy it a long time ago. They didn’t get uninterrupted time to themselves like this very often, but when they did, they usually spent it similarly to how they were now. She always managed to find some way to mess with him even when they were busy, randomly pinning him against walls and freezing time just to grope him and all sorts of other embarrassing things. Lately she’d discovered how much more pliable he got when he hadn’t orgasmed in a while, and had used that information to her full advantage; it was even enough to dissipate his urge to provoke her, and to keep him on his best behavior today. If he even got the idea to try to get himself off in his rare alone time, she always seemed to appear, summoning a purple rope out of thin air and immobilizing him until he’d thoroughly apologized for trying to disobey her. It was frustrating and it was humiliating and it was so, _so_ good.

She trained her gaze back on him. “Clean yourself up.” He hastily wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you? You were shaking.” It was a rhetorical question, but he still frantically nodded.

“Of course you did,” she said disdainfully, and she positioned her boot on his chest and kicked him backwards. He had somewhat expected this, and he fell onto his back with his hands splayed outward. Ora took him in for a second, from his tense face to the extremely visible bulge in his pants. Without warning, she planted her boot on his chest again, this time hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He gasped for a second and then looked back at her, his eyes pleading.

She looked him over for a minute, her face blank as usual. “You want me to let you cum?” It wasn’t even a question; he frantically nodded. “Say it.”

“Y-yes, I really wanna cum,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

She leaned down and reached down the front of his pants, gripping his cock in his hand before he even knew what was happening. Instantly, in spite of himself, he let out an embarrassingly loud moan; he covered his mouth with both hands as she gave it a couple of sharp tugs. He’d been so turned on by the whole situation and so oversensitive to any touch that he’d felt himself leaking into his underwear while he ate her out, and there was no way she didn’t notice. It only took a few seconds of her touch before he had to deliberately fight down the orgasm that threatened to erupt. He tried to focus on something, anything— the ceiling, the texture of the rug he was on— anything other than the maddeningly slow way she was running her fingers over the head. He heard her make an amused sound as his cock throbbed hard against her palm, and then she sat upright, casually resting her boot on his chest again. He wanted to complain that she’d done that just to be mean, but this was no time to be a brat, not when she was considering letting him finally have his relief.

“What would you do for me if I let you cum?” Her tone was even, but there was a distinct gleam in her eye, which he usually only saw when something particularly mean was forthcoming. 

His thoughts raced for a moment. “I… anything. You know I’ll do anything you want,” he managed to say, with no idea if that was what she wanted to hear. What else did he have to offer her? She quite literally had him pinned down.

“Promise?” 

He nodded again, and she pressed her heel harder, painfully, into his chest. He gasped and then got out, “yes! Yes, anything. I promise.”

The corner of her mouth flickered upward, and she stood up, brushing off her dress and striding towards the door. “Follow me.” He quickly had to gather himself, also straightening his dark blue pants and sleeves as he rushed after her. He followed her outside and saw that she was headed to where her Time Mazine was parked. That seemed like an odd thing to do— maybe she’d fuck him in it again?— but he wasn’t about to question it and possibly lose his chance for release. As soon as he climbed into the cockpit after her, she shut the door and set the machine’s course for a date and time that she didn’t let him look at. Still recovering from what had just happened and with his lingering desperation impossible to ignore, Heure sat silently on the floor next to the controls as the machine lifted off and whooshed forward.

As the vehicle flung them through time, he crossed his legs and fidgeted, staring at the streaks of green and blue out the window in an effort to distract himself. Ora gave no hint, out loud or on her face, as to where they were going or what she planned to do there. Another few moments and there was a jolt as they landed. She parked the Mazine and pulled him out of it, yanking him along as if they had somewhere urgent to be. They were in some part of the city that he might’ve been to before but didn’t remember well. They were behind a generic grey building and facing a brick-walled alleyway, but there was nothing else notable about their surroundings. She looked around for a moment and then pulled him along so fast he had to run to keep up.

Suddenly they were in the alley, and Heure found himself shoved against a brick wall. He had to blink a few times to gain his composure and find a sense of where he was. It took a few seconds for the two blobs of blue in front of his vision to solidify and take the shape of… himself and Ora?

Their other selves were standing a few feet away from the alley, facing towards a commotion of voices, lingering behind Schwartz. Ora’s arms were crossed and she looked bored as usual, and his other self was staring firmly downwards. Another few seconds, and Heure faintly registered that it was Zi-O’s voice yelling at their other selves, some speech about justice. He listened to the words but didn’t find them familiar— _oh, so we must be somewhere in the future._

He glanced back at Ora— the current Ora— questioningly. She smirked and held a finger to her lips, as if she’d been waiting for this realization to dawn on him, and then slid one hand over his mouth and the other down the front of his pants. He felt his knees go weak, and a whimper slipped out just as the Ora standing across from him looked him directly in the eye. Nobody else in the tableau before him seemed to notice this, least of all his future self, whose gaze was still rooted at the ground. That look seemed deliberate and distinctly familiar. It meant _shut up_ or _don’t try anything_ or _behave yourself_ or any combination of the above. She had to have seen him, right? She must have known what was happening, right? Just as she turned her head away, as if nothing had ever happened, he felt the Ora behind him shove him forward by the small of his back.

He was pressed chest-first against the cold bricks now, his head turned to get a view of his and Ora’s future counterparts. Pressing her body against his to keep him in place, Ora slipped her hand down the front of his pants again. She grabbed his cock and stroked him quickly and firmly, her hand rustling against the material of his clothing. She must have known that he wouldn’t be able to hold in all of the sounds that were rising in his throat. He moved to raise his hand and stop time, but she grabbed his wrist hard and pinned his arm behind his back. Instead of _please_ or _what are you doing_ , he settled for whispering her name as quietly as he could manage, his voice strained with the effort of holding in the noise. For the moment, it worked; none of the Time Jackers before him seemed to notice. His past self dragged the toe of his shoe along the ground.

Only then did Heure realize the point of this game. Here he was, being teased mercilessly after all that time of being denied, and he couldn’t make a sound lest he disrupt the future events playing out in front of him, not to mention have all their enemies see him like this. His and her future selves knew exactly what was going on right beside them, but nobody else did, and it would only stay that way if he was quiet. He tried to turn his head to look at Ora questioningly and confirm that she knew what she was doing playing with time this recklessly, but as soon as he moved she pinned his head back to the wall and grabbed a fist of his hair. “No,” she hissed in his ear. “Still.” The start of a moan involuntarily slipped from his mouth as she pumped her hand harder than before, once and then twice, emphasizing her point. He allowed himself a low whimper and relaxed his body, conceding defeat. Obviously this was something he’d just have to go along with if he wanted any hope of release. 

Her hand still holding his head firmly to the wall, Ora let go of his cock— a little whimper of protest slipping out before he fought to keep quiet— and he had a moment’s respite as she dug for something in her pocket. Zi-O’s words still rung in the background, and it faintly occurred to Heure that he never thought he’d hear a Rider giving a self-righteous speech while he was getting fucked. Then Ora’s hand was down the back of his pants, and his focus shifted immediately back to the present. Her finger, covered with a cold and slippery liquid, was beginning to probe at him. He managed to suppress a surprised noise, but he had to fight to stand up still, his knees weak at the realization of what she was about to do to him. He braced himself against the wall and pushed his hips back towards her, and when two of her fingers slipped inside, he gasped at the sensation. Barely able to stop himself, he began to rock his hips back and forth, grinding against her hand in the hope of any stimulation. 

He heard an amused murmur behind him, and Ora held her hand still, letting him fuck himself on her fingers. The past Ora in front of him was staring off into the distance, but he noticed a distinctly familiar look on her face, the kind of tiny smirk she got when she knew she was doing something really cruel. This was about the point where she’d usually be calling him a slut or something. _Well,_ he thought hazily, _she’d be right_ . One little slip-up on his part could make everyone notice and see what they were doing, and yet he was still there, not only going along but enjoying it. He kept himself quiet by biting his lip as he kept thrusting himself against her hand, his pace fast and erratic, recklessly pushing for more. Her fingers hadn’t hit that one good spot yet and he wasn’t sure he could keep quiet once they did, but _fuck_ , he needed this so badly he didn’t even care. 

It felt like tempting fate to keep staring at his future self during this, but he couldn’t help it. The future Heure looked like he was trying to sink into the ground, his curls falling forward and almost entirely covering the blush creeping across his face. Faintly it occurred to him that both versions of himself were being tormented here, and both versions of Ora were probably very satisfied with themselves for it. In fact, she’d probably deliberately picked out this moment in time, staking out weeks or even months into the future to find a place and time where she could fuck him right in front of his future self. Ora seemed to confirm this by grabbing his hips and pushing him up against the wall, moving her fingers at an even faster and rougher pace, her chest pressed against his back to hold him in place.

Surprised, he exhaled loudly, and then fought the urge to moan even louder. Future Heure’s eyes flicked towards them almost imperceptibly, and his hands balled into fists in his pockets. Heure realized that, somewhere in the near future, he would be completely unable to focus on whatever was happening with the riders as he listened to himself getting unceremoniously fucked nearby. Not only that, but now he knew that this was coming, and he had no idea when. He had only a second to think _she put too much thought into this_ before her fingers curled in just the right way, and there it was, she was pressing hard against his prostate and wiggling her fingers in a way that was just about unbearable. Mercifully, she clamped her hand over his mouth to stop the high-pitched moan that he didn’t even try to suppress. His head swam and his vision unfocused, the Heure in front of him becoming a blue blob again. He didn’t need to look at his future self to know that it was taking everything he had not to react to the scene in the alley. 

His breathing became erratic panting, his mind spiraling every time she even slightly moved her fingers. The sounds of the nearby events became an unrecognizable blur, and his whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Ora pressed against him, rhythmically pounding at his prostate. His eyes drifted closed and his hair grew damp with sweat. He felt like he’d crumple to the ground if she weren’t keeping him so firmly in place. At this point he didn’t even care if she let him finish or not, he just wanted her to keep doing this forever. She could fuck him right in front of Schwartz and everyone else for all he cared.

His reverie was broken by Ora’s fist wrapped around his cock again. The mixed sensations of both her hands at once, rubbing his cock and fingering him in different jagged rhythms, was almost too much. His heart pounded even harder than before and every thought in his brain swirled together and melted away, leaving only Ora’s name and a wordless desperation. He needed to cum _so badly_ but at the same time, he wanted her to keep him hanging on the edge like this forever, just to satisfy her. Whatever she wanted, anything she wanted, anything she wanted from him…

She made it clear what that was. “Cum,” she whispered directly into his ear. “Right now.” A second passed before he registered her order, and he had to consciously let go of the tension that he’d been holding inside for over two weeks now, allowing himself to fully feel all the pleasure washing over him instead of fighting to keep it from spilling over. A few more pumps of her hand and her fingers curling in just the right way, and finally, _finally_ , he exploded. There was no hope of stopping the moan that he let out, and his hand gripped the brick wall so hard his knuckles turned white as all that tension flew out of his body and into Ora’s hand. He couldn’t tell exactly how long the indescribable feeling lasted, but when it ended, he was left panting and weak-kneed and empty-headed. Ora continued to hold him against the wall as he came down, his ears ringing and his vision fuzzed. He faintly registered that the sounds of Schwartz talking to Zi-O had been replaced with the sound of a battle far in the background. A few blinks cleared up his vision, and he saw that their future selves had left his line of sight, possibly to join the fighting.

But that was something he’d deal with when this future came. Right now Ora was slinging his arm over her shoulders and trying to help him walk straight. “Let’s go,” she said briskly. Trying to make his legs move despite them feeling like jelly, he stumbled, almost pulling her to the ground with him; she yanked him back up and put her arm around his waist, holding him upright. He considered just going limp and making her carry him, but settled for walking as best he could while leaning his head on her shoulder. They made their way back to the Mazine, Ora helping him climb in and sit down on the floor while she stood at the controls. He let himself slump over as she powered up the vehicle, reveling in the pleasant empty-headed relaxation that he so rarely got to feel. He closed his eyes as he felt the rumbles of the Mazine’s liftoff.

Once they were cruising, Ora kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to lean down and brush some strands of hair out of Heure’s face. He opened his eyes and caught her gazing at him with a tiny smile on her face, not the sadistic kind he was used to seeing but something much softer. Even more surprisingly, she didn’t drop the smile as she lightly ran her hands through his messed-up curls. He made a happy sound from the back of his throat and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Ora was standing up again, steering the Mazine. He leaned sideways with his head resting against her legs, and instead of smacking him away like she normally would have, she allowed it. Gently, probably hoping he wouldn’t notice, she braced her hand against his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall as the vehicle jerked around.

As they headed back to their own time, Heure relaxed against her, and his thoughts wandered to the future. He never knew what the future held these days, but whatever happened, all he knew was that he wanted to spend it with her.


End file.
